


The More You Learn, The More You Earn

by SevenThirtySeven



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Loud Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:39:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevenThirtySeven/pseuds/SevenThirtySeven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assignment for Blue Christmeth. Fill for request number 2 from sd4p: An increasingly sexually confused Jesse decides to explore his feelings for men with Saul because he knows Saul can never tell anyone. They both end up liking it and it quickly becomes much more than experimentation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The More You Learn, The More You Earn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sd4p](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sd4p/gifts).



> I've never written Saul Goodman before so this was kind of an experiment for me too. And this is straight-up porn. With a little tiny bit of plot. If you look at it side-long. I don't own Breaking Bad or any related material. Just my way of enjoying fandom.

There are many reasons for a person to break the law. Many of them good. Many of them not. But polite society had a tendency to lump all lawbreakers together. To assume that a person who embodies one less than savory quality must embody the rest.

Saul Goodman had been called a lot of nasty things in his adult life, behind his back and to his face. But he'd been practicing his craft long enough to pass the sink or swim test so most of the time it was a water off a duck type situation.The only one that seemed to still bother him though was 'lazy'. Because it was just a complete fabrication. A lazy conclusion drawn by small minds. Ask anybody that had been on the business end of the Saul Goodman work ethic. He had been raised by a hardworking Irish Protestant father who despised nothing more then people who spent money they didn't earn. But then the word ‘earn’ meant different things to different people. 

As a college student, Saul had burned the midnight oil all through law school. But after a person is handed their shiny piece of paper in their cap and gown, they're very suddenly thrown to the mercy of supply and demand. It certainly wasn't Saul's fault that the biggest demand out there were people who should be in jail but didn't want to be.

Once he'd built himself a reputation, he used every tool in the box to serve each client that he allowed his services. To the absolute best of his ability. So it wasn't unusual for the clock to be pushing midnight by time he locked up. Consequently, whenever he did finally cross the threshold of the ol' homestead it was time to loosen the tie and pour a large glass of something brown. Quitten' time was quitten' time and he never, ever took his work home with him. So a familiar red, 1984 tin can parked across the street from his building was not the most welcome of sights.

Saul rapped his knuckles on the back passenger window and was met with nothing. On closer inspection the car was empty. Huh. Kid must’ve waited until someone was coming out of Saul's building and then slipped in before the door locked. Jesus, he needed to seriously consider an after-hours-pain-in-the-ass fee.

 ---

"Mr. Pinkman, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Saul said to the slumped form leaning against the wall next to the door of his penthouse. 

"Oh, hey." Jesse got to his feet, gave him a nervous smile and took a step forward. "Hey Saul. How's it going, man?"

Saul tried to read the kid without being too obvious. This unannounced visit was unprecedented and strangeness of it was making him tense. Did the kid have bad news? Was he about to be told that Walter had finally gone nuts and hey, Saul buddy heads up you should probably skip town? But the kid didn’t look all that scared. If it was legal trouble he would've just come to the office, Saul thought. Unless he was trying to remain unseen. Which would point to big trouble. But in that case he wouldn't have come all the way to Saul's apartment, kid wasn't that dumb. He would've just stayed holed up at his house and had one of his burnout friends call from a pay phone. "Never better." Saul breezed past the question, the answer obviously unimportant. "What can I do for, Mr. Pinkman?"

Jesse just stood in front of him, too much gravity in his eyes for this early on in the conversation. Which, right away, was alarming. He continued to stare at Saul silently until it became apparent he wasn't going to answer the question. Maybe the kid was unprepared to have whatever conversation they were about to have in the hallway. Saul suppressed a sigh. "Would you like to come in?"

 Jesse seemed to look a little less like he was about to give birth. "Sure."

 It wasn't until they were in the brighter lighting of Saul's living room that he noticed two things: the oddly shaped bulge in the kid's jacket pocket and the bruise coloring the lower left side of his jaw. Saul checked his watch. Jesus. All signs were pointing to a situation that wouldn't be resolved quickly. "What can I do for you, Pinkman?" He reiterated.

 "Uh....well. I had a question kind of."

 "You know my after hours fee is double, right?" Said Saul shrugging out of his jacket.

 Jesse shook his head, "Its not, um, a legal matter."

 Saul finally did let the suppressed sigh escape. "Isn't this what Mike is for? He's your new big brother, isn't he? I'm sure he can give you some wonderfully snappy advice. Or Walt-"

"I don't need advice." He interrupted. Then gave him an apologetic look, obviously catching on that Saul was starting to get annoyed.

"So, what? You came over here to hang out?" Saul tried not to let his tone turn insulting but the very idea was just ridiculous. The look on Jesse's face almost made Saul think he'd figured it out. But there was still a fidgety frustration there that should've gone away. Ok. Not that, but close. "So what then?" Jesse ignored him in favor of answering his earlier question.

"I don't think Mike would....he can't help me. He's....look I'm..." Jesse groaned and ran a hand down his face. He shook his head and jammed a hand into the bump that was his pocket, producing a bottle-shaped lump of colorful paper. "I got you this."

Saul stared at him for a moment before taking the proffered object and looking Jesse in the eye. "Why?" He didn't usually sound so suspicious when given gifts from clients but this situation felt unusual. It was currently filed under “motiveless act”. Jesse seemed to have schooled his features into something half-way believable as honesty.

"Just to say I appreciate how much you've helped me and Mr....how much you've helped us out." Saul looked down at the thing, thought about asking about the bruise, decided against it and unceremoniously tore off the paper. It was a bottle of scotch. More specifically it was a ninety dollar bottle of scotch. "It's a good one. I asked...asked around." The kid said, rubbing the back of his neck. Saul looked back up at a him. The kid looked about ready to shake apart. What in God's name did he want? And why did he look like he was staring down....wait. A ludicrous thought occurred to him. Something in his expression must've spooked Jesse because his face started get red. Really red. "What?" He croaked. The kid's quick, jittery glance down at his groin made certainty plop down and take root in Saul's gut.

For Christ sake. "You came here to screw."

With more speed than Saul was prepared for Jesse dropped to his knees and lunged for his belt. "Jesus Christ!" Saul yelped, dropping the bottle of oak-aged amber goodness. It landed unharmed on the plush carpet. Jesse had his belt open before he could say thing, jerking it roughly and throwing them both slightly off balance. His now free hands reflexively grasped Jesse's shoulders to steady himself as he floundered around to reason with the kid. "Easy does it!" He said pushing at Jesse's shoulders.

"We don't have to do anything crazy. I'll just..." Jesse stopped his quest to divest Saul of his pants and just stared at the triangle of Saul's shorts he'd revealed. "I could...blow you."

Saul felt a jolt and couldn't stop the glance at Jesse's pink mouth. "That's quite an offer. But maybe we should..." Jesse looked up at him and ghosted one hand over the front of Saul's slacks and palmed the bulge in his own jeans with the other.  "Christ, what're you doing?" Saul whispered.

"I just want to. I don't really get it." Jesse replied, looking equal parts confused and heart-breakingly eager. Saul just nodded and tentatively slipped a hand behind Jesse's head, quickly warming to the feel of the buzzed stubs of hair prickling his rapidly moistening palm.

\----

 "Nothing crazy" turned out to be Jesse on his hands and knees in the middle of Saul's king-sized mattress, trying not to rip the comforter with the force he was grasping it with. Saul behind him, slamming their hips together over and over and over and over.

 Neither one of them had made it entirely out of their clothes: Jesse's t-shirt was rucked up under his arms, jeans and boxers pooled just below his knees. Saul had retained more articles but looked worse for wear, maybe because if it. He still had his trousers on, pushed down just enough for his cock to move freely in and out of Jesse's ass. Dress slacks much more easily wrinkled than Jesse’s black denim. His lavender dress shirt was hanging loosely open, absolutely drenched with his own sweat. His belt was hanging on by one loop, flopping around on the bed next to them as they moved together.

 Jesse had already come once, spilling in his boxers when he was kneeling on the carpet with his lips wrapped around the head of Saul's erection. He was currently at the "screaming a litany of fuckfuckfuckfuck" stage of the encounter, shouts becoming reedy and hoarse. His arms gave out, transferring his, albeit inconsiderable, weight solely to his shaky knees. Saul wasn't far behind. His hands were slipping around so much on Jesse's hips from the combination of lubricant and sweat that he had to change position and hold Jesse by the shoulders, pulling him down onto his cock. "Jesse! Jesus..." His panting was almost distractingly loud to his ears but he doubted Jesse could hear it over his own screaming. "God! Fuck! S-ssaul!" And with a final cracked yell he clenched around Saul, striping the sheets and collapsing onto the bed. Saul continued to slam into Jesse for almost exactly a solid sixty seconds until he growled out one last "Jesse!" and filled the condom.

Saul blacked out to the thought of liking the feel of his ear pressed flush against Jesse's hot, bare back way too much.


End file.
